


Take me home Tonight

by Senora_Luna



Series: 1980s AU [1]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: 1980s, 80s slang, Alternate Universe - 1980s, F/M, Shameless Smut, good vibes, radical, tubular
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Blame the Coco Discord.In a 1980s AU, Imelda returns to her hometown of Santa Cecilia reluctantly. It isn't until seeing some high school friends play in a band, she considers making a night out with a certain guitarist.





	Take me home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I'm shameless the 80s is fun, and so is a modern no-murder AU.

                “You’re not even trying. It looks like my Abuelita”

                “I don’t even like care.” Came the scoffing response from Imelda as she adjusted her shoulder pads while walking alongside her roommate Liliana. True, the dark purple jumpsuit wasn’t the most provocative thing she could have worn to a concert. However matronly was an exaggeration, it had a belt, she told herself and Liliana, which at least made her curves apparent. But the lack of skin and difficult to undress outfit was a statement. She was not interested in any drooling, drunk or high, concert boys tonight. Especially when in the crowd would be a sea of boys from her hometown of Santa Cecelia.

                “Well,” Liliana gave a disapproving tsk but knew it was a lost cause to argue with Imelda. Unlike her roommate, she was in a neon dress, a blue tank top with an orange pleaded skirt. Each girl had their hair feathered out-but Imelda had not even bothered with any make up. “I think you’re being a sour puss. Ernesto’s really changed-it’s been like-what four years since you saw him?”.” And she looped her arm in Imelda’s with a tug.

                “I grew up with Ernesto in choir you didn’t, I can assure you no amount of growth could make me excited to see him perform.”

                “I bet you twenty pesos when you see him perform your panties will get wet, that is if we make it in time, we’re already late.” Came a sly snicker as Liliana whispered in her ear. Imelda huffed and rolled her eyes.

                “You already owe me twenty pesos, we took my car to get here, gas isn’t cheap.” This was not Imelda’s idea of a ‘fun evening’ to see some annoying people from high school. That was why she had gone to Universitad in Mexico City, to get away from the simplicity and tradition in Santa Cecilia.  That was why she dreamed to return for a Masters Degree-that is depending on how and when the city was able to recover from the earthquake. Just remembering it made her shudder, and the fact she had survived with only a few stiches on her leg. And that was why, she told herself, she would tolerate her childhood best friend’s pleas, since she only had to spend months in their simple town before returning to the city. Technically she did owe Liliana, she wouldn’t have been able to afford an apartment on her own, and sharing the house with her twin, rebellious, and sometimes curiously destructive younger brothers was not something she could tolerate.

                So _tolerating_ Liliana’s idea of a fun night out, driving over to the next town to see their childhood ‘friend’ Ernesto De La Cruz perform in his apparently ‘popular’ band, was what she was left with. The disco club they were going to at least seemed nice, big, bright, the interior didn’t smell _too_ rancid of smoke and hair spray.

                “How about instead…” Liliana bounced on her feet until spotting the bar. “I buy you a drink!”

                “Mojito on the rocks.” Imelda made her way to a stool and took a needed seat. Already the shoes Liliana had leant her were constricting her feet to a degree it seemed like blisters would form. Imelda cursed under her breath, she’d told her that her feet were much too big for the shoes, but after ten minutes of cooing and critique of her outfit she’d finally put the shoes on just to shut her up. This evening was already turning into a headache she wanted to drown in alcohol. Grudgingly, the logic of her mind piped up as the designated driver she certainly couldn’t do that. With a sigh she reclined an elbow on the counter, shooting a deadly look at any hombre who attempted to look in her direction. Men could not get within distance of her to be heard over the music to even offer to buy her a drink.

                “Señoritas, Señors,, you’ve been just bonito this evening!” That voice was unmistakable. Intrigued, Imelda slipped from her stool to press through the crowd in order to see the modest stage, which was partially hidden from a blasting fog machine on the left wing. At least the painful shoes were doing something useful now, assisting her petite frame in getting a look over the crowd of the stage as she made her way near the edge. “We want to take this night to the max with our last song!” And everyone around her rejoiced like it were Gloria Estefan on stage or one of those international hits like David Bowie.

                A rippling electric guitar began the song, and Imelda reached the front just in time to see Ernesto sing the first notes. Well Liliana wasn’t wrong-by certain standards he was decent looking. Very buff, tall, bangs feathered out in a hip style, he’d certainly grown into that chin of his, and the thick moustache complimented his face to say the least. He was dressed head to toe in denim, with a diamond earring glittering beneath the stage lights. Liliana wasn’t _wrong_ per se, he certainly wasn’t ugly-nor did he sound bad. It made sense there was a hoard of young women leaning against the stage lip seeming to pray he would touch their waving hands. But ugn- something about the way he danced, and forced his vibrato on long notes, along with adding an additional scale where there was no need to be one.

                It was still Ernesto. The same ego-driven, machismo, and self-absorbed boy she had grown up with seeing showboat every Sunday in church choir. Knowing he was so successful almost pissed her off more about the evening as she folded her arms trying not to tap her foot to the song-because it was a good song she had to admit. He sang on about living for familia of the world-the world’s a stage-other Shakespeare allusions she wondered if he even understood. When he did kneel down on the stage to kiss the hands of a few fans she was nearly relieved she could focus instead on the guitar solo. Then another voice began.

                Ernesto had been such an obnoxious presence she hadn’t even taken into account the other members of his band. Toward the corner of the stage now, she suddenly recognized another man as he expertly strummed his electric guitar while leaning into his mic to reiterate the chorus Ernesto had just sang.

                Tall, was Imelda’s first thought, but maybe it was all the black clothing contributing to that. The man was dressed in black leather boots, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. Only a jacket. Beneath the flashing neon lights she could see the shine of sweat over his scrawny chest, curling chest hair, and the rise of some faint muscle when he inhaled for each note. Unlike Ernesto his voice was especially bass, steady, not trying so hard, and somehow sending vibrations straight through her despite the lack of vibrato. Especially when he tossed his head back to move his long black bangs from his sweating face. That face. Héctor?!

                Héctor, Ernesto’s lithe, built to be a dancer, goofy friend. If Ernesto was a prideful egomaniac Héctor kept him down to earth. Every rehearsal he was there early strumming away on his little guitar in the corner, and spending breaks stuffing his rather large nose in a book about classical music or poetry, or a comic. It had never left much an impression in her mind-she appreciated it-except during his mischievous streaks which interrupted rehearsal-or school, or general town events. However instead of hating him or dismissing him completely like Ernesto, the humble quality he had to come to her and the Instructors when stuck on music, or seeking advice kept him a tolerable non-threatening individual in her mind.

Until now-suddenly, with his long black hair, and deep voice, deeper since she last heard him sing, running through the little disco tech, she was struck with a sudden painful realization he had become quite sexy.

Héctor half danced across the stage, easily playing his guitar at the same time, and avoiding the long cord attached to it until he and Ernesto were shoulder to shoulder, singing into the same mic. Although she preferred his voice alone, she couldn’t deny they sounded good together, and had the kind of sync and trust only two people who had grown up side by side could have. Then with a rippling, incredibly fast display of fingers Héctor played the last cord while Ernesto milked out the last word as long as he could. The stage lights faded-and the crowd around her erupted in a sea of hormones.

Girls were screaming-louder than she could stand as she did her best to back out of the crowd before it trampled toward the stage. The screams of longing for kisses, asking for panties to be signed-and flashing shirts was enough to interrupt any feelings she’d had before. After snaking her way out of the mob she found an impatient Liliana standing with drinks beside the counter. Upon seeing Imelda her expression changed to a smirk.

“You puta! You saw him! Isn’t he great? He’s just so mature now.” The only reason Imelda tolerated her squealing was the drink being handed to her.

“He hasn’t changed much.” A long drink of the mojito reminded her there wasn’t enough alcohol in it to erase the momentary urges she’d felt.

“Oh callate, you know he and I were flirting last time, and he said he’d buy me a drink next time he saw me.” The giggle she let out would have been cute if Imelda hadn’t been so annoyed.

“What about the rest of the band? They seem less egotistical.”

“As if, Gustavo-the drummer-he’s got a reputation for being a disappointment in bed. Ernesto-people talk about him like it’s a night with a God…”

“Fifty pesos says he doesn’t know what the word clitoris means.” Liliana silenced Imelda with a nudge to the ribs. “Can’t you try and hook up with someone less self-absorbed?”

“You know what-speaking of who’s good in bed,” She went on absently, “You remember Héctor, he was in church with us, apparently he’s _good_. Like can you believe it? When you look at him you’d think oh he’s totally a nerd-or some weird self-obsessed artist, all moody and black, but I heard from Juanita that he knows what he’s doing. He took an anatomy class in school.” Imelda’s face remained neutral but the words weren’t helping the uncomfortable twisting in her stomach.

Fuck, how long had it been? She’d dumped her ridiculous excuse of a boyfriend (To her Papá’s dismay and Mamá’s joy) the moment he wasn’t pleased about her going to Grad School. That had been…a year ago? But she had her standards! She wasn’t some ‘skank’ who had a different lay every night of the week. At least that was what she told herself. She and Liliana had watched their Mamás, and participated themselves in the feminist revolution in the 70s-they could do what they wanted was the enduring message. Hence was why she had gone to a _couple_ disappointing boy’s places after the break up.

Both had been…underwhelming, Francesco, the handsome Business Major, was all about speed and power and she was left sore, and shocked it was over so quickly. John, the timid gringo, was worse. Slow, timid, confused, awkward, painfully prude, and then killing the moment entirely by calling her a ‘Spicy Chocolate Mexicana’. The night ended with her leaving him pleading as she walked out half-dressed down the hall (because he hadn’t even figured out how to unhook a bra) rolling her eyes. After those, Imelda decided her standards were too high for one night stands. Until now that is.

Was Liliana still talking? Oh dios she was-something about Ernesto and Héctor starting their band with hard work and struggle, blah blah blah. Imelda stirred the straw in her mojito trying to focus on what color curtains she would buy for her room, instead of how impressively Héctor’s fingers had danced over the guitar strings. It wasn’t just sexy, it was a musical mastery-and skill…hard work, damn it that was sexy too.

“Oh Liliana bonita! You came!” Imelda almost snorted on the drink, as Ernesto appeared from behind, exiting the crowd. Up close she could see glitter in his hair and cheeks. Okay, he was somewhat handsome-but that smile, ugh, was there ever a thought in his head that didn’t revolve around himself? She didn’t have time to ask, he was kissing Liliana’s hand and was about to take her own. “And you,”

“Hola Ernesto.”

“Im-imelda!” The charm melted off his face in a mixture of shock, and slight fear. It helped knowing her Papá was a member of law enforcement to keep men respectful-but even without that she had enough of a reputation to keep men honest. “Well…I did not expect to see you here. There was talk you were in the city during the Earthquake-,”

“Clearly I survived in one piece, unless I’m a calavera without realizing it.”

“Heh…gnarly…” Ernesto attempted a smile, but the faux nature didn’t even begin to convince her or curve even the slightest smile on her face. Instead she took another drink-and this time she did choke on it sitting up in a frantic cough as she heard her name.

“Imelda?” Again this time spoken in a tone of wonder. Spinning on the stool she faced Héctor, stepping from the crowd, guitar on his back, sweating, and looking even hotter up close. Oh no.

“…Hola Héctor.” Damn her voice sounded like she didn’t know how to properly speak. Héctor’s look of shock transformed to one of concern.

“Oh perdoname! Did I startle you?” This close she could see smeared eyeliner around his eyes, and black chipped nail polish around his nails.

“No I-um, I saw you play! I didn’t know you were in the band.” A pleased smile spread on his tired face as he reclined on the bar.

“Oh si, si, we’ve been doing this now…hm four years Ernesto?”

“Ten if you count rehearsing in the basement”

“If only producers did-this is bien you both came!” It was the opposite of Ernesto, he was so jovial and warm, Imelda got the impression he would shake everyone’s hand in the club if he had the time. It gave her a slight smile because it reminded her much more of her Papá’s welcoming energy.

“I’ve been telling Imelda how great you both are.” Liliana insisted taking Ernesto’s arm. “You looked just amazing up there.”

“Do you want to dance?” Ernesto hadn’t changed that much-straight to business. The twinkle in his eye had Liliana a practical puddle as she nodded eagerly, taking his hand as the pair pushed into the crowd to the dance floor once more.

Left alone, together, Imelda flicked her eyes back to her drink and using her straw to crush the ice cubes in her half-empty glass. Do not look at his chest she told herself. Do not look at those dreamy, tired eyes, he’ll be gone in a minute-no-wait-mierda- he’s sitting down-

“So you’re a business major I heard?” He leaned his elbows on the dirty counter and brushed back his bangs again. It was the same features, a prominent crooked nose, and rather large ears-but damn those sharp cheekbones looked so appealing that she could run a finger over them right now.

“Actually I just graduated or well…I would have if it hadn’t been for the earthquake.” Imelda added forcing her gaze back down. “I’ll be in grad school once I work it out though.” That’s right, you’re above this. You’re a sophisticated woman.  
                “Oh Radical! I mean-not the quake obviously, but you’re still fighting for your degree despite it. I’m almost done getting my degree in music.”

“You’re in Univrrsity?”

“Oh yeah, I went to the local school-I teach kids music in the day. Once I finish my degree I can do it in a more established place” Mierda stop talking. Stop making yourself more attractive. She didn’t want to know anything else about him and downed the rest of her drink.

“So you work locally?” Damn it.

“Yeah! At the church, I help with choir and give out lessons! The chamacos are cute when they aren’t being demons”

”That’s funny,” Imelda added bluntly. “You don’t look like the works-with-small-ninos type.”

“Oh you mean all this?” Héctor chuckled sweeping back his mullet length hair that made her stomach jump just how soft it looked. “I mean it’s fun for stage, and I’ve always been fascinated with caleveras-“ He gestured to his skull belt buckle “but I’m not some…scary, brujo or anything.” He snickered. Imelda shook her head to break free from staring at him. “Also I love Freddie, and Guns N Roses, so I steal a lot of style from them.” To her amusement despite the clear fatigue on his face, the man was still tapping his foot and shimmying his head to beat of the music behind them. It wasn’t lessening how aroused she felt. It was also amusing he was sheepishly admitting to being such a fan of gringo music when their style was much more traditional.

This was dangerous territory though, Héctor was a local hombre. What was to stop him from spreading the word of their hook up to all his friends, and then to her, and of course eventually her parents. Her Papá would surely have heart attack at the idea of his Imeldita having premarital sex. She did her best to be a good Catholic, but this was an issue she felt the Lord could forgive her for.

“Oh I see…”

“Do you still do anything with music?”

“I was a music minor. I plan to do something with music management.” Imelda spattered quickly, her eyes drifting away.

“Oh radical! Wow, I always could tell you were one of the people really passionate about music. It’s nice to have you back in town.” Imelda felt her cheeks going red, normally her family had nothing but eye rolls when she talked about using her degree for something music based instead of a more structured and practical field. “So you still sing I imagine. At least I hope so, your voice was so beautiful.” And he leaned forward in what she wondered what was a charming smirk, since his crooked teeth just looked ridiculous-and oh he even had a missing tooth replaced with gold?!

“Stop smiling at girls like that, you look ridiculous.” Ernesto had returned, and Imelda felt a surge of hate and relief. Nothing was a better to kill her mood than looking at the pompous ass who had turned her normally rational friend into a gibbering pile of goo.

“Ay, Callate.” Héctor swatted Ernesto’s arm.

“Did he tell you how it happened? He fell off a skateboard.”

“Did you come here for something?” The note of agitation Héctor had taken with his friend was only scoring him points in Imelda’s book.

“I’m going to take Liliana home, she had a headache.” Ernesto’s eyes faltered over the neon girl attached to his arm, whose expression did not look in any sort of pain except for how impatient she was to get him alone. Imelda scowled and resisted rolling her eyes.

“Yes I don’t want to cut your fun short Imelda, since I’m sure you want to stay out longer.” Liliana urged, and Imelda again did all she could to mask an icy glare. It was code for don’t come home right away, I want the apartment to myself for some bizarre sex with an egomaniac-or at least that was how Imelda read t.

“…Feel better.” She said deadpanned, watching the two go arm and arm.

“Ay mi vida.” Héctor muttered at the sight.

“What is it?” Imelda looked back at him.

“Oh lo siento, I wasn’t meaning to insult your friend…”

“Do go on I already told her I think it’s stupid to sleep with Ernesto. It doesn’t look like he’s changed much form his womanizing ways.” To her frankness Héctor let out a sigh, then gave a non-commital nod of agreement.

“I would love to give you a contrasting sentiment, but…I’m not one to lie to a woman who can easily sniff them out.” And he attempted to smile again but half a yawn caught him. Imelda stared a moment at him, she contemplated being left the bar and the fact going home early was not an option. That tired smile on his face, everything about him, well maybe she just had an itch to scratch. Why not do it with one of the men she found most attractive (she suddenly realized) in her hometown.

“Why don’t we go to your place.” The bluntness of her suggestion seemed to startle the man fully awake as he sat up staring as though he misheard her.

“Que?”

“Take me home tonight, your home. That is if you want-“

“Ay I want!-I want you to-yes please.” As if he’d had a shot of coffee the man was up and alert seemingly revived from the evening’s events. Imelda couldn’t decide if it was endearing or ridiculous at the prospect men were so delighted at an opportunity or sex.

“And you can keep a secret.”

“Of course-I would never want to damage your reputation.” Either he was a good actor or genuinely aware just what a damaged reputation could do to a mujer.

“Even Erne-“

“I’m not one to open my private life for his jokes.” And the exasperation on his face reassured her he had enough stake in this to keep his mouth shut.

“Claro…vamanos.”

Within half an hour, of a bizarrely quiet car ride, where they let the radio do most of the talking they had reached Héctor’s apartment, where she parked at the curb to avoid obvious detection. Quiet that is, except for the chaos in Imelda’s head. It felt like every song was echoing the desire she felt raging in her for this man. It didn’t help every time she glanced over his way, or in the rear view mirror there was a view of his bare chest beneath that jacket. Part of her barely heard what he was saying, something about how nice that venue was and hoping no one had noticed how he missed the third cord in the second set they played.

 For a men’s place, Imelda considered it quite clean-no stray food, or laundry about, and the only real chaos was the amount of papers littered about. Old touring posters, Record cases, sheets of scribbled music, sheets of printed song tabs, a strange assortment of instruments here and there, and of course what looked to be random jackets from stage performances. Héctor laughed nervously as he locked the door behind them.

“Ay,…we were not expecting company otherwise I would have seen it cleaned…”

“Tch, you would do better to keep your scores organized,” Imelda said plainly picking up a few of the songs.  “It’s easy to mix up.”

“You’re right, you’re right-so um, can I get you anything? A cola? Water? Are you hungry-“ Before Héctor could go on she had turned toward him intently catching his gaze while stepping up much closer to him. Liliana’s cursed shoes were surely giving her blisters by now-but at least with them she reached the man’s chin instead of her usual height which would have left her stranded at his collar bone.

“No, no, and no.”

“Ay…um…” Héctor paused, it was clear he was trying to think of something clever to say the way his eyes ran over her-instead what came out was another nervous laugh as he ran one arm over the other in a tick. “You know…I don’t know if it was obvious, but I used to have a crush on you in choir…”

“It was obvious, I just wasn’t interested.”

“Oh,”

“Well, I wasn’t interested in any boys.”

“Ah-…and now?”

“Well now, I’m here aren’t I? You looked…really good tonight.”

“You look…really good too.” The expression he made she could tell he was rethinking how ridiculous that sounded. It was enduring he was trying so hard, and she took as a que to lean forward and finally kiss that face which had drawing her in all evening. That is, until she accidently ran her nose into his own and they both stepped back holding their faces.

“Ow,” Héctor stepped back, and as did she blushing furiously at the blunder. Pride ruined, Imelda nearly considered running for the door.

“I-er-are you hurt? Let me get some ice,”

“It’s nothing-nothing,” He argued in a nasally voice and waving a hand. Imelda bit her lip then rushed as quickly as the stupid shoes would let her into the kitchen. After digging through a variety of frozen meals and way too many flavors of popsicles she relented, and took a popsicle rather than keep searching for ice cubes. Héctor had taken a seat on the sofa and was still clutching his nose when she sat beside him.

“Uh…here this was all I could find…”

“Ha…Ernesto probably forgot to fill the ice tray,” And he put the plastic wrapped stick against his red nose.

“I didn’t realize you were going to move…that was…impulsive on my part.”

“No-no, I should have held still I was excited,…” The silence that followed was painfully awkward for Imelda as she struggled to remain seated. If there wasn’t a part of her still aching for sex, she would have left by now. Still-this was ridiculous, she just smacked the man in the nose and now he was holding a grape popsicle, there was no turning back from this. It was time to bite the bullet, get home, put on her headphones and just masturbate after throwing Liliana’s miserable shoes against her door to hopefully scare them out of intercourse. “Hey…” Héctor’s voice caught her attention before she could bolt. Turning his way the warmth in his gaze made her stomach flip. “I’d still…really like to kiss you if I could try again.” For a moment Imelda felt like she was the one being seduced and could only manage a nod.

With a warm smile, and setting aside the popsicle he inched closer on the sofa and carefully lifted her chin with his knuckle and thumb-no chances of misaligned noses now. The moment he met her lips Imelda still at how odd it was-he was being so careful as if she would break. The ‘kiss’ ended after only a second with Imelda struggling to contain her confusion and irritation.

“What was that?”

“Huh?”

“You barely kissed me.”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Another nervous laugh. Imelda frowned, and took hold of the collar on his jacket yanking him close.

“I came here…because I want to sleep with you.” If only she had a polaroid his cheeks went so red, and eyes went wide with excitement. “So I would like, a real kiss.” And sitting up on her knees she took his face this time, carefully avoiding his swelling nose, and pressed her mouth onto his drawing out the molding of her lips. Now this was nice, he was wonderfully warm as if absorbing the heat of the stage lights he’d been under all evening. Even better was when he took the hint to open his mouth and their tongues touched for the first time in burst of electricity, tentatively testing limits. Wow, no alcohol, instead he tasted slightly bitter of his last meal-and maybe a popsicle, well that solved the excess. When they drew apart she felt her own face warmer and struggled to find words. As far as kissing went he wasn’t too bad at it once he stopped being so nervous.

“…No drinking tonight huh?” Imelda managed.

“I never drink before a performance I like to be energetic… and I end up falling asleep when I drink…” The look he gave her was like a drunk, his head followed after her when she pulled back from the kiss. Obviously that crush was still going on. Maybe it was contagious-she kissed him again, finding a smoother exchange this time with their tongues. It didn’t take Imelda long to remember why she had come over in the first place because already the heat was rushing between her legs like it had when seeing him play. A tentative hand brushed her arm, and eagerly she guided it to her breast. A noise left him and she pulled back quickly.

“What is it?”

“Perdoname, you’re…hm-…” His eyes were glancing around the room with the same shyness, but it only lead to her own going down-seeing the strain at the crotch of his trousers. There wasn’t much left to the imagination in the tight jeans. Dios it had been too long for her. Imelda barely knew herself she felt so forward-maybe because he was so patient- and placed a hand on his thigh. She looked in his eyes for permission and he nodded quickly, dazed, until she slid her hand across the zipper holding in his erection.

“We should…go to the bed room.” Imelda murmured, the warmth in her palm, the hardness of him, the look of worship in his eyes was running over her skin like a fever. Underneath his jacket she could already see the beginning of a little pant in his breath by the fall of his chest.

“Of course, wouldn’t want Ernesto to get home early…” He gave her a half-smirk, and this time it wasn’t as goofy. Eager, she rushed to her feet, wincing at the added pressure of the shoes.

“You know…you can take those off.” There was hint of mischief in his voice.

“I don’t need your roommate to see I was…here…”

“Hm then I suppose the only answer is to help you to my room,” And before Imelda could protest or question it, he scooped her up rather boldly pressing a soft kiss on her flushing face. A gasp left her, oh this was the kind of chivalry she could get on board for. Had she been less horny her pride would have protested the help but right now-his arms around her hips, his lips trailing for her mouth, this was delicious.

Héctor’s room was surprisingly neater than the living room. To her distraction she heard him kicking a few things as they entered and broke apart their kiss just in time to see him nudge a few libros erotico underneath his bed.

“What’s that?”

“Nuh-ming” Came his lie against her mouth as he set her onto the patchwork quilt covered bed. Thankfully the mattress was large enough to accommodate them both, but she didn’t doubt if he stretched out his feet would hang off the end.

“I hate liars.” Shyly he slipped off her mouth and sighed with scowling pout.

“Okay that…was a…little lie…just…some old books.”

“Pornography?”

“Don’t call it that.” He grumbled.

“It could come in handy if you need inspiration…” To his surprise she inched toward him on the bed, her hands falling upon his thighs again.

“Have you seen yourself? I don’t need that.” Before she could process being flattered he wasn’t faulting her shoulder patted jumpsuit, his mouth was on hers again. They fell into a heap on the bed, and the heat of his bare chest was radiating across her own even through the fabric. Fingers aching for more she slid off his leather jacket helping him shake it off as the sweat tightened the fabric to his arms. Dios he was scrawny. The man was mostly bone and long limbs just like the last time she’d seen him. Again he could have posed as a member of a ballet-then again from what she saw on stage his dancing had only improved, so it may not even be much ‘posing’. For what he lacked in muscle he made up for in warmth-and _dios_ he was _tall_. His arms were long enough and hands big enough to catch her whole waist and yank her back into him for a heated kiss. “Come here,”

Oh. That voice, was suddenly deep like his singing voice. There was a shiver it ran to her stomach. Suddenly he had caught her ankle-a part of her froze, what if he was just as selfish and ridiculous as Ernesto? Maybe in bed he become much more obnoxious and bold-maybe he was going to be as controlling as Francesco—maybe-maybe-…he was taking her shoe off. There were calluses on the pads of his finger tips, probably from the guitar, but he was taking the upmost caution as he slid the plastic wraps off, freeing her feet from the too tight, too tall prison.

“Looks like you need the popsicle why were you wearing such small shoes?” He dropped each casually off the side of his bed.

“Liliana’s insistence.”

“Ay dios, you can’t listen to a friend’s bad ideas, trust me.” Rather than tell him off for being condescending Imelda couldn’t help sigh with relief her feet could breathe again. Then he stilled, he was looking at her in the dim room. The light of the moon was spilling in his open window, enough so they could see one another clearly-especially aided by the streetlamps.

“Que paso?”

“I’m just-…What do you like?” He asked softly his hands running up her ankles. For a moment she faltered, a frown appearing and sigh.

“You’re not a virgin are you?” The look he gave her was so flat and annoyed it was nearly the same as the one he’d shot Ernesto. “…All right no…so…”

“Different women like different things-unless I’m mistaken and you’re just like _everyone else.”_ And the mischief was back in his face knowing the comment would get under her skin. He was teasing her! All right at least he wasn’t afraid and frozen like John, or rushing things like Francesco. And thankfully not going through the motions like her ex. If he was going to be cocky though she planned to take him down a peg.

“Well same could be said to you-except, men are simple. Just touch their pito and they’re rather easy to get off.” Without warning she snapped open a button of her jumpsuit, then another, and another until it hung around her waist, leaving her sitting in her pink push-up bra. A perfect test, let’s see if he can get off. “Take off my bra.” But he did more than that, those long arms were around her again, pulling her close kissing her mouth with a more vicious hunger that she didn’t even notice her bra was on the floor until she felt the cool air on her nipples when he pulled back to get a look of her. Oh. Well that hadn’t gone as planned. Momentary self consciousness came. The push-up was her ex’s idea; seeing as her chest wasn’t the largest-normally she felt her hips compensated perfectly-but…well those were still covered.

                Before he could get a word in she stood, covering his mouth with a finger. A part of his eyes were like a stung puppy, frantic she would leave him. All of his fears were resolved the instant she began shimmying the fabric down her hips until standing in her high rise panties, letting him drink in the sight of her basic lingerie. If she’d known she would be having sex tonight she would have made a sexier choice (and shaved her legs) but it was dark enough. It would hopefully do. The dazed look on his face told her the illusion was working.

                “Come back…” The plea was nearly adorable, enough so she could forgive his earlier mocking and crawled back over the quilt beside him where his hands began to trace her hips-respectfully avoiding her underwear until Imelda caught his hand putting it between her legs. “Damn…” it was a barely audible gasp but enough to make her shiver. And then she did again when he pulled her close cautiously kissing her jawline, then ear, waiting to see what would draw a response until suddenly he found the small concave of her throat which forced out a moan.

                “Right there…”Imelda gasped, “Kiss there…” He listened excellently, pressing his lips in a suction that forced out a moan. Then his fingers were running, running, tracing, up her sides in a crawl like they were on piano keys. When the calloused ends of his thumbs found her nipples his voice vibrated in her ear.

                “Do you like them pulled…” Thumb and knuckle softly trapped each bud giving a gentle tug, “or…maybe flicked?” letting them painfully go his thumb returned a moment flickering side to side. It wasn’t attention she was used to, usually having her breasts being an after thought, and she felt a pant growing in her chest.

                “Flick,” Whose voice that? Hers? It had come out in a mewl, a practical beg-and oh dios his mouth was back on her throat sucking that spot and his thumbs-oh he listened well. It was a little embarrassing he was unhinging her so quickly-no this could not be stood for. With all the willpower she could muster before falling apart at this man’s hands she pushed him to his back. There was concern on his face he’d done something wrong for the split second until she’d mounted his hips.

                “You-you’re bold…”

                “Did you expect anything less?” Imelda muttered catching the clasp of his belt and beginning to rapidly undo his jeans.

                “Honestly I didn’t know what to expect-o-oh…” Her palm pressed flat on his boxers where his cock strained to come free. From the pulsing on her palm he had to be nearly there-ready for her-it sent a wave of liquid between her legs at the thought. Impulsively she pressed on, yanking down his jeans as he helped, kicking them off his ankles while she sent his boots flying across the room. “Careful, don’t break a window,” Another laugh, a half chuckle. Did he always find time for jokes? Well if this was so funny he was about to eat his words.

                “As if,” And she swiftly yanked his boxers down-oh. It appeared some of Liliana’s rumors had truth. He wasn’t frightening of a sight thankfully, but much like his lithe, lean figure, he appeared rather long in every department. At least, in comparison to the others she’d been with-was her face going a darker red? He was still giving her that playful look. Imelda refused to let anything intimidate her though, if he could crack jokes so could she-licking her palm then running it up the underside of his hardening flesh. “You will tell me if you’re _too_ overwhelmed won’t you?” The pride in her voice dripped, she knew well enough at this point men were simple, pleasing them was easy, and it made them putty.

                “Looking at you is overwhelming.” A breathy hitch had come into his voice and it made her pause for a second, was he joking again?

“I’m already in your bed, I hate flattery,” And her fingers closed around his cock, feeling the veins strain against her palm as his eyes momentarily fluttered. Again heat sent a throb between her legs, a surge of liquid excitement. In her palm the head was shimmering bulb of marron, already letting out little drops of precum. Penises, were normally just that. Pitos, simple, often in need of a good washing. But when she looked at his…the length, the sensitivity of it’s jerking to the pressures of her thumb, something was very attractive about it.

 “…Can I kiss you while you do that…” Oh…maybe it wasn’t a joke, he sounded intensely satisfied-especially from the half smile on his face. Every deep word he said was making her underwear a little wetter. Kissing would be good-at least he’d be quiet again. Imelda managed a nod and swiftly he sat up, scooping her head in his large palm kissing her like he was starving. She found herself squeezing his cock like it were her hold on reality the kiss was so dizzying. “Imelda,..” He moaned her name! They weren’t even having sex yet. This should have been a victory but dios he had a nice voice, she pressed her thighs together feeling her sex throb to a nearly aching degree.

                “Uhuh…?”

                “Can I touch you…”

                “You are…”

                “Inside your panties…”

                “…Si…” the free hand trailed up her thigh and slid along the elastic of her underwear. Tentatively she parted her thighs allowing his fingers to tip toe down within, until she felt the contact of the warm flesh running through her already sensitive and wet folds. The calluses on the edges of his fingers made the friction on her slippery skin delightful when his palm ran down casually feeling her open. It was impossible to resist a shiver-those long fingers molded her with such ease, soaking in all of her excitement.

                “Mierda-…you’re getting wet.”

                “It’s um…been awhile for me.” Why are you telling him you idiot!

                “That wasn’t a compliant.” As if to reassure her his mouth leaned forward upon her throat sucking the sensitive spot once again as she moaned squeezing him tighter than she meant as a hiss left him. Before she could apologize his mouth left her skin to pant, “Do that again-por favor…por favor…” And keeping an eye on his reaction she squeezed until the hard core of his cock was resisting against the pressure of fingers, feeling the man tense against her with another hiss. He was getting harder in her hand, longer, surely he felt over his own fingers how it was making her drip.

                “What about you huh?”

                “Que?”

                “What do _you_ like?” For a few seconds he went silent seeming to contemplate something, before that mischievous smirk was on his face again.

                “Do you let guys go down on you?” Imelda gasped as subtly as possible, but the question made her heart thunder faster. The answer was-none of the others ever wanted to. Of course it apparently felt good-so she heard, but there was an embarrassing element to it. Just how kinky was he!? She bit her lip about to get into a philosophical argument with herself whether it qualified or not as something slutty-if she wanted to try it because she considered herself a woman of high standards-“Imelda?”

                “I do.” And without another word, much like she had, the man pressed her against the mattress by pulling her hips forward. The quilt was surprisingly soft, and his pillow smelt nice. For a moment she contemplated what kind of fabric softener he used to distract her pounding heart-but reality struck her like lightning when his tongue made contact with the pitiful thin fabric on her underwear, because holy _fuck_ was it good. Weird. Really weird. But amazing. “Whoa-,”

                “Too hard?” She couldn’t even look down at him as he spoke, all of this was a touch too embarrassing but it certainly helped the intense need she felt.

                “May-be…” She had to inhale to find her bearings, “Maybe…start...soft.”

                “New to this?”

                “Ca-callate.” And he did-his tongue weaving slowly down her, pushing into the dark wet spot her underwear had acquired, glancing up at her between licks as if to reassure himself she was still content with it. Everything was burning in her, especially when he kept looking at her like that. In the darkness every little catch of light in his deep brown eyes created a sparkle. It felt like the weight of universe eyeing her, enjoying her, and she had to remind herself this wasn’t supposed to be a serious affair. “Let me um…take them off…”

                “Here,” Hooking a finger into each side he easily slid them off her legs, tossing them into the pile of clothing growing on his bedroom floor. Now she was just as nude as he was, and another wave of self-consciousness came forth. Héctor Rivera was going to stare at her coño? Had she told this to her teenage self, she would have laughed it off. Secondly, and more strangely how much she _wanted_ him to enjoy the sight. There was no time to scold herself for getting to invested but somewhere between the popsicle and asking for a kiss while having his cock stroked, she felt a stupid soft spot growing for him. Neither moved as she held her thighs together, and he propped himself on an elbow-shaking his head to whisk his bangs from his eyes and meet her gaze.

                “Why aren’t you…doing anything?”

                “Well I’m not going to force your legs open.” He said matter of fact, the playfulness back in his voice. Imelda frowned trying to come up with a cleaver response, but then noticed his fingers running over her thigh with nothing but a curious wander over each dark hair, and then the scar from the stiches down her thigh. Respectfully he didn’t ask, but let his fingers travel on.

                “I didn’t plan…for this so I didn’t shave my le-,”

                “Are you apologizing?”

                “No! Just,-“

                “I like your legs hair or not…you have really incredible thighs…” Imelda dared to looked down, he was just friendly as he’d been as a kid. Somehow it soothed whatever nervous energy was there that had her so defensive. “Besides I haven’t showered in about two days so I wasn’t really ready either, and sex with you is something I would do even if you’d just come out of a pig sty.”

                “Is that the smell of you?”

                “Ay! Callate… wait is there a- oh you’re laughing.” The flush, then eyeroll had her in giggles until she part her thighs and his lustful focus returned. Sliding forward, his mouth found contact and she reclined against his headboard with a soft gasp. Slowly, keeping a watchful eye on her face his tongue ran through her folds, prying them further apart with little shoves until the liquid inside spilled into his mouth. Warm, so very warm, and strange, and meltingly nice at the same time.

                The tip of his tongue reached her entrance with a pressing force and it was impossible to not let out a sharp whine.

                “Softer-…”

                “Mmhm,” He obeyed and his tongue prodded with more gentle tiny licks, and a light quiver began in her thighs. How had she missed out on this for so many years? Clearly she would have to raise her standards that no man was worth it unless he was willing to do this. An ache was started to build up in her that made her thighs fidget and shift for more attention. In the haze of pleasure the solution finally came to mind as she found her voice.

                “Lick up…toward the top…” Once again he listened without question trailing his tongue until it brushed the spot she’d been waiting for sending electric pleasure down her legs. Oh he _did_ understand. His tongue had found her clitoris without much effort and traced the underside testing. “Si-….si, do it there but harder,” A frantic rush was building between her pants.

                Wow did he listen. Those large hands holding her thighs from their trembling kept her steady enough for him to build the most amazing pace-pressure pushing her bundle nerves into her, which radiated up her body. For a moment she lost track of any account of pride or keeping it casual and gasped openly, whining each time his tongue would press down in a drawn out interval. Thank Dios Ernesto was not here, surely the whole apartment could hear the half scream she gave when his tongue pushed so perfectly that a long needed orgasm rippled down her legs. The defenseless quilt was yanked by her fists, and she would have possibly twisted from his bed had he not anchored her in place. What relief, after months of stiffness, fear, pain, warm melting relief tingling down her body.

                When reality returned her senses he was still between her legs-pressing his lips on the inside of her shaking thighs-hot breaths from pants tickling her skin. Despite the temporary relief the lust surged in her like a wild thing, and driven by need she shoved up his shoulders urging him to his back while she crawled around to straddle him. Héctor’s eyes grew wider, and she was met with a delighted arm pulling her closer.

“You have condoms don’t you?”

“Oh-si-hold on-hold on-“ keeping an arm around her waist he scooted them closer to the edge of the bed and stretched a long arm to rummage his nightstand drawer. Bang, clang, thud, slowly Imelda’s gaze wandered to the sounds seeing him toss various pens, tuners, notebooks, until finally he pulled out a foil wrapped condom with a victorious “Ha!”. Pleased, she roughly snagged his face for another smothering kiss. At least he cared about safety and nothing was more exciting now except-suddenly he drew back with a wince. “Nose-!”

“Oh! Right, lo siento-“

“It’s fine-it’s fine” and frantically he adjusted his face in desperation to taste her mouth once more. Imelda slid closer in his lap, and a quiver ran through her sex when she felt the hard weight of his erection roll against her stomach as they adjusted to kiss. A moment she contemplated how sore this night would leave her if he wasn’t as cautious a lover when it came to the actual act.

However as they drew apart the lust in his face was mixed with such a look she hated. It made her stomach flip how his eyes were studying her, and frowning she slid away from him.

“You should put that on.”

“Are you always so composed?” Once again he offered her that goofy excuse of a sexy smirk, lifting his brow as he opened the wrapper with his teeth.

“Are you always so nonchalant?”

“This is actually my stressed face.” He panted finally rolling the condom on after a few trembling tries. Imelda avoided his gaze and pressed him to his back once more. Before she could straddle him, the man was kissing her again, a hand running through her feathered hair, soft moans which she didn’t know the source of as their tongues twirled and salvia ran over their lips. Before those dark, warm night eyes could capture her again she slipped out of reach.

After a moment’s contemplation Imelda climbed atop him backward, an alluring enough view she knew-and helpful for her urges if he was going to continue with his ridiculous jokes and bizarre looks. There didn’t seem to be any complaints on his part as she felt his hands tentatively run over her behind and a tiny murmur which she deduced was another ridiculous “Wow radical”.

‘Composed’ was actually a humorous concept, her legs hadn’t trembled with this much lust in years. It was a little difficult to position herself upon her knees over his begging erection. The rational voice grumbling over everything was finally silent in her, when she began to slide down, pressing him in with a delicious pressure creating hisses from his lips behind her.

“Mierda” the rasp of his voice made her _ache_ he couldn’t fill her fast enough and she impulsively attempted to take him wholly in a quick motion. It took less than a second for her hips to jerk back up in a painful wince, as she curled off him trying not to show any sign of pain of her own overexcited blunder. “Ay, ay don’t go so fast!” He sat up with a breathless half laugh-half wince- _how_ was he laughing!

“I’m-I’m fine.”

“Uhuh,” damn it now he was being sarcastic! She had half a mind to jump out of the bed and-oh, his mouth was on her neck again. The warmth of his chest, the soft bristle of torso hair, heating and tickling her back as he carefully moved her hair aside. “I can be patient…don’t poke your cervix on my account…”

“I-I wasn’t,” Don’t you dare laugh and give him the satisfaction! Even worse she moaned from the attentions of his lips. “Let me go, I want to try again…don’t you?”

“ _Badly._ But don’t bend my pito in your excitement.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Never.”

“Hèctor.”

“Imelda?” Struggling, she bit her lip holding in a smile before taking a deep breath. The attentions on her neck wasn’t making her any calmer to give up on getting him within. Finally ,she wiggled free and perched on her knees once more. “Slow por favor,” came a soft pant into her ear. And obeying, carefully her hips pressed downward upon his straining cock.

Warm, very warm just like the rest of him, filling her up within in such a pleasant stretch. Ay, and his breath in her ear-the hisses and soft curses as she took him in as far as the pressure was bearable across the border of demanding ecstasy or discomfort. Unconsciously her hips were already swaying- she had been so ready for this all night long.

“Fuck…” was the only thing she could manage hoping it wasn’t too vulgar but oh when her hips tilted the right angle going down, his intimidating tip rubbed the most blissful spot within. Slow was the way to go he was right, her body accepted more and more of him with each roll of her hips. The pressure was getting deeper, and deeper until her moans were hitting a higher frequency that was almost embarrassing. “Roll your hips too…”

The added force slid him inside harder, the pressure growing glorifying hot. It almost had her lost completely except for how quiet he’d become. Glancing to her shoulder she noticed him biting his lip-suppressing in some sounds and what seemed a string of words.

“I actually _like_ dirty talk…you kn-know.” Imelda managed between each rock of their bodies which nearly forced her smaller frame off his lap. The eyes looked in her direction again, his lustful starry eyes and she tumbled into the void as he spoke.

“Mierda No tienes idea de cuánto te quería.. Tu culo es increíble,” his hands added a squeeze to the thick cheeks pulling her down upon him a little harder, making them both groan. “Tu cuerpo entero ... eres tan jodidamente radical y excitante,” his hoarse voice was leaning into her ear, “Me gustaste tanto ... eres tan inteligente, increíble, te jodidamente sientes increíble.…” and suddenly he paused from his drunken slur of words, catching her hips in hands as they both gasped. “I don’t…I don’t want to come too fast and end this”

“That good?” She could be cocky too, but he was apparently shameless.

“Si,” he groaned holding her hips to slip out for a moment leaving her achingly empty. “You know what you’re doing.”

Imelda shook violently and whimpered at his pause. Reaching down she began to rub her clit to relieve some of the pressure as she managed as gasping response.

“We could…go out…again…” so much for a one night stand, “Do this-again” all of her defenses were down, and before she could register it his hand fell atop hers as the deep voice vibrated in her ear.

“Do you like your clit rubbed during?”

“S-si.” Just the words made her shake. “Harder than that.”

“Like this…or more?”

“Más, más Hèctor!” He took the cue to slide back within and move again. Imelda almost screamed again rolling her head back into his shoulder. What happened? She was supposed to be in control not him, and even worse she didn’t care-not even the smallest bit. Rather, her mind was lost in the sound of the bodies coming together, the wet sounds coming from his fingers pulling on the hood if her clit while he pressed within underneath, and his panting, slurring, lyrical words running into her ear.

“Verte esta noche fue muy emocionante…no puedo creer que estés aquí. Qué coño tan tubular tienes, cálido, suave, increíble...Imelda…” Now they were going even faster than before-he was even deeper than before. He was right slow was the way-and glancing down they were completely joined now, his entire cock lost within her that gave her a tiny surge of pride. The pressure of his thrusts rocked up through the pit of her stomach, god she’d never been filled like this and it was incredible. If there was to be soreness tomorrow it would be worth it for the pleasure she felt, the heat, the tension, the satiation and fullness that made her feel stuffed in the best way. The slapping of their bodies was ecstasy to her ears, as the pitiful bed creaked to their pounding bodies.

“D-don’t stop.” And he pushed and pushed to her open begging body until it was finally satisfied with the kinetic energy it required to burst. Oh she did scream now, convulsing and bouncing in his lap, unable to keep up her end of the motions. It wasn’t even curses this time, it was just a mangled raspy shriek, and roll of her spine. What an orgasm, what a talented guitarist. What a lovely man. She _liked_ him.

 Once again his free arm anchored her in place so she didn’t completely slide away from the uncontrollable tremors. That was _much_ better than anything she could have done alone. Coming down she felt the gentle pressure of his body still rocking inside her, and mouth on her neck. Sweat was gluing their skin together and she relished in the stillness, letting him do the work for a few moments as her head rested upon his shoulder. Gratitude was surging through her, and admittedly _affection._ “Hold still…”

Rocking forward she began to sway her hips on his lap, side to side hearing a broken moan leap out of him. Reclining forward out of his grasp she would give him a view of her ‘incredible culo’ then. A hitching gasp came from him and she gave him what he was searching the words for.

“You can squeeze me…” and oh dios he did. The length of his long fingers cupped her excitedly working her hips in the most pleasurable motion, and she had to admit the pressure of his fingers were exciting for her too even if it would leave marks. Now she had her control again, the whine leaving him sounded so painfully desperate-the way his hips were following her motions, and shuddered was an indication just how close he must have been.

“Mierda- _mierda-_ fuck yo-soy-“

“Do it then, do it…if I’m so amazing show me.” now it was her sensual voice that undid him. The man convulsed, his fingers pressed into her rear, and body curled forward over her own again with a raspy groaning sound that almost growled followed by little breathless curses. Hips drilling as deep as they could into her, pressing out a few last gasps from her too. Slowly, his grip went slack and body deflated against her back in frantic little gasps. Imelda was looking over her shoulder with a satisfied smile. Not so cocky now was he?

They were still a moment, each gasping for air as his body blanketed her from the cool desert air that came through his open window. As her senses returned, the euphoria dying down in her brain, Imelda’s mind went to work searching for a way to recover from all the ridiculous things she had just said and allowed him to say. And another awkward realization settled-there was no turning back now. He would never be Héctor who smiled at her in church again-she’d be thinking of how he sounded when inside her.

With a little a wiggle, she reanimated-and as did he straightening back to free her from his body weight. If she was being honest it was a little miserable when he pulled his wilting cock from her-but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. Sitting up, Imelda debated if she should cover up-start dressing, but something in her felt so languid, so hesitant. Then he spoke distracting her as he let out a yawn.

“Damn you drained me…that was just-wow,” And before she could respond he stole a peck from her lips, then picked up the patchwork quilt draping it over her shoulders and tucking it tightly for warmth. “Don’t catch a chill, I’ll shut the window.” And he stood tossing the condom in the waist basket as she watched his casually nude form walk across the room to the window. Satiated, she allowed herself the indulgence of checking out his body, and taking notice despite his slim frame he still possessed an attractive behind himself-or maybe that was her orgasm voice talking. Tired, warm, and momentarily distracted she looked at the corner of the book peeking out from beneath the bed which he’d kicked when carrying her in.

“ _Pasión de los Amantes en la ciudad Azteca_ ” The look of horror on Héctor’s face was only matched in hilarity from the half sprint he did across the room to get the book from her hand. “Is there where you learned your moves from?” She pulled it into her quilt fortress as he fell upon the bed unsuccessful.

“I-…appreciate being caught up on my reading! It’s a historical novel about the tradition of the Aztecs-our ancestors. Dignified important reading.” The scramble on his face had her giggling as she opened the dog-eared page.

“ ‘Kiss me Atzi, just like your namesake your kisses are the rain’ gasped the rugged José as his muscular arm lifted his beloved. ‘Make love to me José,’ cried Atzi, ‘My body is in need of your seed-,’”

“That’s enough!” Héctor was scarlet as he seized the book as Imelda fell back in giggles.

“Not the badass guitarist at heart it seems.”

“Ha-ha.” He muttered sarcastically.  “I will not be ashamed of enjoying fine literature. Especially when it can be inspirational…and as far as I noticed…you enjoyed yourself.” Damn he’d turned the tables-the smirk again, the eyebrow. Imelda exhaled, ‘get up get dressed’ her voice said. Yet…

“I did…and um I should be going…” His hand reached forward carefully, landing on her knuckles.

“You don’t have to. I…” He chewed on his lip looking for words, “I really like you…I wasn’t just saying that. You could stay the night…I’d like if you did.” Imelda stared at him, his eyes were drawing her again-and she finally noticed just how long his eyelashes were, beneath the smeared eyeliner she hadn’t taken account of them. It added such a gentleness to his face, which contrasted his sharp cheekbones. There was no part of her that wanted the rumors if her car was found near his place come morning, or what Ernesto would say when he saw her-or hell even what it implied if she gave him the satisfaction of staying for the sake of his company-but…his fingers were so gently massaging her thumb. A tiny bruise was forming where she had whacked his nose, but his eyes were so tenderly pleading her to stay. “And um, not because I’m looking for more sex-I mean I’m pretty exhausted-we could other-…ahem, uh-Are you hungry?”

“…A little.”

“Oh perfect, I have pan dulce in the fridge.”

“At midnight?”

“Ay mi vida of course at midnight, conchas are best at midnight.” He tossed her a T-shirt from his dresser as he pulled on a shockingly neon pink tank top. The sudden chuckle that escaped her earned a shrug from him as he pulled his boxers back on. “Pink is my favorite color-black is a stage look.”

“It suits you.”

“Vamanos-comida,” And he held a hand out to her. Despite everything, Imelda found herself smiling. She dropped the quilt and pulled on the t-shirt which hung on her like a tight dress.

“I expect a dramatic reading of your ‘literature’ if I stay all night.”

“Ay…we’ll see.” He grumbled helping her to her feet, but there was a glowing look of excitement in his eye as he yawned again scratching his chest. Glancing about his room she noticed an assortment of various books on shelf, board games, and more intriguing a desk covered in pages and notebooks of lyrics. So, that’s why she liked Ernesto’s songs-they weren’t Ernesto’s at all, but from the mind of the man covered in pink.

“…Well if you do it might make me like you more.”

“So you admit it-you like me.”

“I’m getting there.” And for once she allowed herself to be lead by the hand to his kitchen.


End file.
